A Sense Of Connection -- The Deaf Nurture Their Distinctive Culture In A Hearing-Oriented Society

COMMUNICATING to the hearing world that deafness is not a disability has created bonds of community and culture. Today's stories explore that world. Tomorrow, a hearing person studies the language of the deaf and learns something more. -----------------------------------------------------------------

Imagine standing in a soundproof booth, trying to learn Japanese from an instructor whose voice you can't hear, who can't hear you, whose language you've never heard, whose culture you don't know.

That's as close as most people come to understanding how the deaf learn English. And most people, who can hear, understandably imagine that deafness must be a disability.

In growing numbers, the deaf say their deafness is nothing of the kind - a challenge, yes, but no worse than many challenges they face daily in a hearing-oriented society, such as finding out if community events provide sign-language interpreters, since newspapers don't list such information.

There's challenge even getting the hearing world to understand what deafness is.

M.J. Bienvenu, a nationally known deaf activist who recently led a humor workshop in Seattle, remembers what happened when a flight attendant found out she was deaf. She brought her an emergency-information card - in Braille.

Those who have written about the deaf note that Helen Keller considered her blindness less troublesome than her deafness.

"Blindness cuts people off from things. Deafness cuts people off from people," she once said.

Bridging that chasm is among the highest orders of business for the deaf - communicating among themselves, and communicating to the world that they are deaf but not dumb, speechless but not mindless, not hearing-impaired but unable to hear.

They want the hearing world to understand that in their midst is a group of people who feel like foreigners, communicating in a different language, sharing a different culture. In fact, they like to capitalize the "D" in "Deaf" to emphasize that separate identity.

The value placed on communication is what makes deaf culture distinctive, said Theresa Smith, a hearing person who founded the American Sign Language Interpreting School in Seattle.

In that yearning for connection, deafness bonds them, whatever their differences in race, culture, gender or abilities.

The numbers of the deaf are relatively small - roughly 8 percent of the population, about 130,519 people in King County - but enough for them to be effective in gaining recognition of their distinctiveness. Signed interpretation at public events has gradually grown; classes in American Sign Language have increased from just one section in the 1970s to more than 13 today at Seattle Central Community College, which has one of four federally funded Regional Education Centers for Deaf Students.

Many of the deaf are fiercely proud of their culture and want to control their destiny.

"Deaf people are tired of having hearing people telling them what to do," said David Hankinson, executive director of Puget Sound Residential Services, who is deaf and facilitates a support group for deaf adults at Seattle Central.

Bienvenu, who was born deaf of deaf parents, has this advice for the hearing: "Leave us alone and (don't) think of us as disabled."

And yet at the same time, the deaf are eager to connect with the hearing world, to share what they feel is special about their culture.

The deaf like to stress they have their own language: American Sign Language.

It is visual and vibrant. Three-dimensional. Hands and fingers dance in midair. Arms slash, twirl, pound and point. Bodies twist and turn. Faces register a multitude of feelings.

ASL enables the deaf to communicate easily and effectively with each other. It's direct. The deaf get right to the point. Being blunt saves time and signs.

For example, when Hankinson did a workshop on sexual harassment, he used the middle finger of his right hand to stroke the palm of his left hand to sign such harassment. To show how a female might feel harassed sexually, he cupped his hand beneath one breast.

Despite its appearance to the hearing as complicated gesturing, ASL is considered a full-fledged language, said David Corina, a University of Washington professor who has studied it.

"It's important that hearing people understand that sign language is not a reduced form of language. It has all the complexity of a foreign language. It's not just visual images in the air."

Another language used by some deaf, and often used by hearing teachers of the deaf, is Manually Coded English, often referred to as Signed English. It involves translating English into signs. Those who favor ASL consider it cumbersome. Others see it as a bridge between the English-speaking world and the deaf.

English itself is difficult for the deaf to learn, and many read and write it at about a third-grade to fifth-grade level. That's not a reflection of intelligence, deaf educators stress, but of how difficult it is to learn a language.

"The main thing hearing people don't understand is that the deaf don't learn a spoken language the same way as hearing people," said Lou Fant, nationally known Seattle author and ASL teacher.

"They read and write it. But they don't learn to do that by hearing. And you don't learn your language, you acquire it. . . . Nature designs us to learn language through our ears. That doesn't happen with deaf people. They have to learn English visually," said Fant, who was born hearing of deaf parents.

Frustration at trying to communicate with the hearing often begins early in life.

Ninety percent of the deaf are born to hearing parents, who usually don't learn sign language. They and their deaf children may find ways to "talk," but deep personal communication often is almost impossible.

"Real communication is just not there in many cases. And deaf children speak about that later with a lot of pain. It takes a lot to include a deaf child in the family," said Sara Geballe, an employment-services coordinator for the deaf at SCCC.

The difficulty compounds as the deaf grow older. Unable to communicate with parents, they rely more on deaf peers to define who they are and how to relate to other people.

Bienvenu believes the deaf benefit greatly from attending residential schools created for the deaf. For many, she says, it's the first place they truly feel at home.

"Some among the hearing find it unimaginable to send a 4-year-old away from Mom and Dad. But for the deaf, it's wonderful," said Bienvenu, who attended a Louisiana school for the deaf.

Instead of feeling like a burden to their family, deaf children for the first time can participate fully in every activity. They no longer think there's something wrong with them, which can happen after seeing scores of doctors and speech therapists. Since signing takes place all the time, deaf children become immersed in deaf culture.

In fact, Bienvenu is among those who think that mainstreaming deaf children into the school system amounts to "genocide of the deaf culture."

Karen Flowers, who hears but was born of deaf parents and has a deaf daughter, doesn't completely agree. It depends on whether the parents sign or not, and what kind of extended community exists, said Flowers, who is an ASL instructor.

Her daughter Misty, 18, friendly and outgoing, graduated from Edmonds-Woodway High School with a 3.75 grade-point average. Her mother signed to her since she was a baby, made sure she was exposed to the deaf community, and gave her the choice of attending the state's school for the deaf in Vancouver.

Elaine Talbot, who manages programs for the deaf and hard of hearing in the Edmonds School District, which serves 15 other school districts, said Bienvenu may not realize how some public schools deal with the deaf today.

"One of the ways we respond to their needs is by bringing large groups of deaf students together, so we can have a regional program for our students, so we can get the specialized staff they need and the support they need. We're appreciative and try to make sure the deaf and hard of hearing are not isolated from their culture and language," she said.

The deaf will smile and tell you about "deaf time." It means running behind schedule.

It happens, the deaf say, because when they engage in ASL conversations, they get carried away, enjoying the opportunity. Time just slips away.

"Being deaf, you miss out on a lot, so when you get the chance to talk . . .," signed Luis Villa, smiling as he shrugged.

Terese McWilliams, an SCCC graduate, said restaurants often get irritated with deaf customers. They don't understand why the deaf sit in their booths for long periods of time, signing away, oblivious to the fact the restaurant may be on the verge of closing.

"Some restaurants get mad when the deaf talk because they chat, and chat, and chat," she said.

There is no end of achievement among the deaf.

Bienvenu's bachelor's and master's degrees are in English and linguistics.

Allie Joiner, the deaf-services coordinator in Tacoma, has had a private pilot's license and has flown solo and Larry Petersen serves as president of the Hearing & Speech Deafness Center.

Danny Delcambre owns the Pike Place Market restaurant Ragin' Cajun, and has catered meals for President Clinton.

Despite such normalcy, the deaf can find integrating into the workplace daunting.

James Sharpard, who works at Allied Signal Aerospace, finds himself frustrated when hearing co-workers begin talking in front of him without sharing what they're saying.

Sometimes it's just chatter, other times something he needs to know. "I'm the only deaf person in my department and I don't get information in time. It's pretty difficult to solve problems that way," Sharpard said at a seminar on deaf workers.

Luis Villa, who is deaf and works at Active Voice Corp., reads lips well. But that gets tiring. "It's so much work on your eyes. Put earplugs on and watch TV. See how tired you get. If you depend on your eyes to `hear,' they wear out."

Geballe, the SCCC jobs coordinator, noted that the deaf face the hurdles of anyone for whom English is a second language.

An example: Associated Grocers recently approached SCCC about hiring deaf employees, mainly for their stock room. About a dozen deaf applicants took a written test. AG provided a signing interpreter, but she could help only if asked.

"We were all excited about it. They have jobs galore . . . I fully expected them to be hired," Geballe said.

But only one person met the standards. The rest, even those with excellent English skills, didn't. The problem, said one deaf applicant, may have been with words used to test ethical leanings, words unfamiliar to the deaf, like "pilfer."

When you meet a deaf person and want to talk, don't yell. It doesn't accomplish anything. Get a deaf person's attention by using a physical or visual signal - waving your hand, for example. Make eye contact.

Treat a deaf person as you would anyone else, but be visual. Point. Write. Draw. Use fingers when numbering.

To help those who lip-read, speak slowly and clearly. Keep your face in view, out of shadow.

Don't assume the deaf don't know how to communicate with you. Many have spent their lives doing just that with a hearing world. And their encounters can be as humorous as they are frustrating.

A favorite deaf story: A hearing person meets a deaf person for the first time. The hearing person writes to the deaf person: "Can you read?" The deaf person looks at the note and writes back: "No. Can you write?"

The hearing and the deaf worlds are so different that they may never quite meet, Bienvenu believes, "but we can get along."

Hearing people who want to share with the deaf community face the same challenge whites would in trying to become part of an African-American community.

"White people interested in the black community can't go all the way into it," she said, signing through an interpreter. "Why can't hearing people accept that they can only go so far? It's an attitude thing."

While hearing people can become bicultural, Bienvenu thinks there is a time and a place for them not to be signing, and to respect those times and places. It's the same as when men need to be with men, women with women.

"My partner is hearing and signs well. But when I go bowling with my deaf group, there's no `Can I come too?' I need a time to be with deaf people."

Hearing people often think of the deaf as children, Teresa Smith said. She remembers going to a restaurant with three deaf adults in their 30s who didn't look anything like one another, or like her. At the time, she was in her 40s.

"When we went to pay, the woman at the cash register asked if they were my children," she said.

The hearing and deaf cultures may differ markedly in just how much importance they attach to hearing.

Advocates for a distinct deaf culture strongly object to giving children cochlear implants, a surgical technique that implants electrodes to directly stimulate the auditory nerve.

Supporters say cochlear implants can improve speech perception and environmental sound awareness, and some deaf activists believe they may be appropriate for older deaf adults, who have had hearing before. But they oppose them for children.

"There's not enough hearing for babies to acquire English with," Smith said. "It's like taking children who are born blind and implanting something that would distinguish between dark and light. It's not like seeing."

Even if the implant could help them hear perfectly, some among the deaf say they wouldn't undergo such an operation, so strong is their sense of identity and culture.

And deafness offers them a special silence that enables them to be oblivious to the many distractions sounds pose in a hearing world - alarms, sirens, construction noise.

"The deaf world is so quiet," says Misty Flowers. "And it's a different community. Deaf people have a special bond. It's a small world. You know each other. In the hearing world, nobody knows each other." ----------------------------------------------------------------- Deaf culture resources

Interested in learning more about deaf culture and American Sign Language? These organizations and books are a good starting point. The public library and bookstores carry these titles and many others. Seattle organizations -- Community Center for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing, 322-4996 (voice/TTY). -- Hearing & Speech Deafness Center, 323-5770 (voice/TTY). -- ADWAS (Abused Deaf Women's Advocacy Services), 726-0093. Books -- "When the Mind Hears: A History of the Deaf," by Harlan Lane (Random House). -- "Seeing Voices: A Journey into the World of the Deaf," by Oliver Sacks (Harper Perennial). -- "What's That Pig Outdoors? A Memoir of Deafness," by Henry Kisor (Hill and Wang). -- "Deaf Heritage," by Jack. R. Gannon (National Association of the Deaf). -- "A Basic Course in American Sign Language" (TJ Publishers). -- "The American Sign Language Phrase Book" (Contemporary Books). -- "The Perigee Visual Dictionary of Signing" (Perigee Books). Videotape -- Deaf-Blind Communication and Community: Getting Involved by Sign." Media Inc. Communicating with the deaf You can communicate with deaf people who have TTY machines - keyboards linked by telephone lines - through a relay service. The toll-free number is (800) 833-6384. An operator will ask for the number you're calling, then communicate via TTY machine with the deaf recipient and by voice with you. Conversations are confidential.